


All In The Flick Of A Camera

by WishingDeathUponButterflies



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Violence, Choking, Dubious Consent, Ecto-Genitalia (Undertale), Ecto-Penis (Undertale), Ecto-Tongue (Undertale), Edge secondhandedly suffers, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Past Abuse, Rape/Non-con Elements, Red Needs a Hug, Red found the camera and hid it, Red suffers too much, Sans Is A Dick, Stretch is also a dick, Vomiting, hidden camera boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-12
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-21 22:34:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14294913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingDeathUponButterflies/pseuds/WishingDeathUponButterflies
Summary: Sans finds a sick satisfaction in ruining his little pet he calls a lover. He doesn't say anything until his lover is dead and he finds a camera.Or oneshots of Red suffering in a love triangle





	1. It Was Your Fault

It wasn’t unusual to wake up like this. He had always loathed getting up in the morning for the sole fact that it was tiring. Everything was tiring nowadays. Eating, sleeping even being fucking breathing was draining him of his morals.  
Being alive was almost like a whirl of light that hurled itself at you, it was far too bright, disappears too fast and hurts your eyes if you stare at it for too long.  
He’d been living alone in his apartment for a while now, the same apartment that was once filled with immature jokes and his joyous laughter.  
He remembered almost being addicted to that laughter of his. It was deep, husky as if he had a deep threatening voice yet it was filled with jokes about his dick size.  
he was so lucky. He slips his feet into the pair of fuzzy slippers underneath him. he is surprised when his foot isn’t met with the comfort of fluff, rather the hard cardboard of a box.  
Rubbing his eyes groggily as he picks up the box. It wasn’t particularly heavy, though it wasn’t that light either. It was covered in dust which made he cringe at the thought of his own bare hands being covered in the remains of the other. There is a rough black marking on the top of the box that states ‘Red’s Personal belongings’ with a weird looking face on it. he smirked at the odd sense of humour, he guessed that it was to deter him from what was inside.  
He lifts the lid gradually, careful not to damage its probably delicate contents. Inside, he finds a digital recording camera, one he recognises it, it was a camera he and Red had found at Waterfall.  
The days he cherished at least. Next to the video camera was a pile of heavy metal rock band covers. He knew his edgy lover had always adored music but never had the nerve to tell anyone of his secret passion.  
he picked up the video camera and turned it over a few times.  
Nothing seemed to be dented, it was covered in scratches but it still worked fine. The video glitched occasionally due to its overuse but it didn’t really bother him.  
he, being the huge nerd, checked every GByte and memory chip- wait. The memory chip. he frantically grips the edges of the camera, searching for the slot where a memory chip would be hiding.  
At last, he comes to a satisfying stop when he finds a hidden slip that shelters under the camera lens. It’s a single small chip, encrypted with codes and wires. He practically bolts down the stairs in a rush. His head is pounding and his eyes are filled with water. Finally, something to remember Red by.  
He feels the satisfying click when we put the cord into the camera. The tv screen is just static for a few seconds before splurging to life with different panels appearing. He can’t help but be reminiscent of when he and Red would just talk when neither of them knew how to work the damn thing. He slams his fingers on the remote, fiddling with it before finding its way towards the ‘memory’ panel.  
Click.

———

‘Pfft- What are you doing?’ he let out a lighthearted chuckle as Red shoves the camera in his face.  
‘Dude, look what I found.’ Red pauses for a dramatic effect. Both of them had been searching around waterfall for dumb things to mess with until Red had tripped over a supposed rock.  
‘It’s like, SUPER rad. And I found it.’ Red crosses his arms with the camera still in his hands. A cocky smirk lines his features as his sharp teeth flash widely at him. he used to think that Red was almost like a yapping chihuahua. Always making so much noise and sometimes it’s really annoying but you can’t help but love it.  
‘Lemme take a look will ya?’ he reaches out for the camera as Red holds it out for him. He always had a strange thought when the was a situation like this. What if he slammed  
the pathetic camera on the ground and told Red it was broken? Would he be disappointed? What if he had begun to yell at Red. A sinister darkness covered his eyes as he watches Red inspect him with a wide smile.  
His arms have gone slack, his eyes are filled with a cloudy bleach. Oh. The object disappears from his thin arms and he hears a splash. he relishes in the darkening frown hat stretches his lover’s face.  
“What. The fuck.”  
“It’s broken.”  
“W-wait but-“  
“Leave it.”  
Red doesn’t seem to understand what sort of situation he’s gotten himself into. Silence reigns over the two of them as he watches the situation slowly.  
He realises that day that he wants to break his sweet little pet bit by bit.

——-

“Sans…” he doesn’t know why he decided to do this. The camera is hidden under a cloth. he knew that this was a bad idea from the get-go but he couldn’t help it  
‘It’ll be fine Red, just twirl for my doll.” Red stiffly turned in the plump maid dress that he had been persuaded to wear. It was amusing, to say the least. To know that Red would do almost anything for Sans, even letting Sans take advantage of him like that, it sent Sans into a strange high that no other could give to him. He let out a satisfied sigh as he glanced over Red again. Taking in the sight of his lover, oh so vulnerable. He lets out a hum of approval, the skirt is barely covering the other’s pelvic bone, revealing everything to him.  
“Sans I don’t think this is a good idea-“  
“Shh, c’mere~”

——-

Red’s hand is reaching out towards the camera, the lens only catches Red’s smile as he crawls down the stairs towards Sans, he steps filled with a cherry step. The camera had begun to work again! Red turns the corner with the camera still in hand. Still recording as a matter of fact. After jiggling the handle a few times, it doesn't seem to budge, maybe Sans was just going through a phase or something. He knocks once on the oak door. No reply. He knocks again only to be greeted by muffled noises from behind the door, it sounded as if there was someone else in there though Red didn’t really suspect anything, Sans did have an awful habit of talking to himself while he slept. Red hears the lock click as he slowly turns the knob, expecting to be greeted with his sleeping lover, and in a swift movement, pokes his head into the room.  
"Hello?" He asks into the shadows before his eyelights adjust to the darkness. Oh.  
It was Sans. Sans and a furry looking monster on the single mattress, Sans straddles her, a look of lust hazy within his eyes as he turns to look at Red. Nothing fades from those eyelights besides from the sense of realisation.  
There comes an overhanging dread that grips his soul as it’s entwined with the strings of misery to drip only his sorrow.  
Both stare aimlessly at each other, the furry female lets out a howl of amusement as Sans joins in with her laughter. The camera falls to the floor in a crash, nothing breaks yet everything falls apart, there is the light pattering of feet behind the camera as Red disappears from frame, hard sobs can be heard through the clay walls that scream for someone to tell him that he wasn’t alone.  
No voice is heard.

\-----

The screen turns to static once more as Sans’ fist collides with the glass, the billions of pieces shattered, almost like his memories. Something cracks within Sans, as if something had clicked into place at that exact moment. He caused this entire thing, didn’t he? He didn’t stop Red, did he? It was all his fault.  
He knew Red was upset but overlooked it. Told him to shut up when he was just asking for something. It was enough that Red had pushed his entire way up the daunting staircase the was his life, only to be met with nothing but nails to walk through again. He was already so tired and Sans pushed him over the edge. He must’ve made a mistake then. He shouldn’t have done it then.  
There’s nothing more satisfying then feeling his overweighting guilt crush him, it was as if every sin he had committed to Red was making his knees weaken, his eyes falter and his head pound. And he could do nothing about it.  
It was even funnier how his hands were suddenly covered in dust.


	2. You Didn’t Do Anything, Did You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge didn’t believe his small, stubborn brother would be the one writing to him in a dusty envelope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! This was a little bit rushed and I didn’t have time to edit it, it’s a bit shorter than usual but enjoy!

He always dreamt of arms that would encase him, smelling of musty dirt, it was a strange comfort to him. He didn’t quite understand why the red fluffy hoodie and a homey smell of grime would be at all a calming scent to him. He would have been deterred by it. Yet he’s drawn to the distinct smell.  
He doesn’t know why.  
Edge had always woken in the early mornings when sunlight would peak through his curtains as the shadows would twirl along the walls of the empty bedrooms. He never told anyone but when he and his older brother had been baby bones, they had woken up early in the morning to play with the ‘sunlight’ that distorted through their fingers.  
It was strange how he and his brother were so different. Edge had always dreamed of fighting the burning sunlight and conquering it, yet The Elder had always been fascinated by the glowing stars that lit up the night. They were so different yet it worked in its own way.  
Edge’s brother was always an interesting person, hiding everything from everyone yet he wanted to keep everyone out of danger. Besides from himself. He always said he had given up yet keeps trying, he was such a strange person, a unique person might he add. Yet, Edge  
d e s p i s e d his elder brother. Edge might’ve just been selfish. He didn’t want to deal with the mourning that came after his brother’s death.  
He was so selfish wasn’t he?

——-

“Papyrus. I’m so sorry, but you have to listen to me.’ His brother had been speaking to him about menial issues involving his relationship with Sans, clearly saddened by the camera they had found, that got shattered, apparently. Edge’s brother had began to deteriorate physically and probably emotionally, feeling tired all the damn time. The maroon circles that hung under his eye sockets had begun to become deeper in colour and he seemed to almost slither everywhere he went. It was unacceptable. Edge rephrased the word ‘cared’ into a warped definition of caring, going more with ‘I don’t want him to be a slacker’ kind of thing.  
“NONSENSE! YOU ARE FINE YOU ARE JUST LAZY SANS!” He scoffs awkwardly, not wanting to speak more than needed with his brother.  
It wasn’t his motive to make his brother feel awful, it was more of a silent treatment. Perhaps he could motivate his brother into doing something with his life other moping around and feeling sorry for himself all the time.  
“Boss, I really need your help, please-“ The elder begs him for advice or something for his own sakes. His eyes are pleading for some grasp on his own life  
Edge pets his brother’s head to silence him. It’s not worth getting himself into his brother’s shenanigans.  
Edge soon leaves within the silence with a satisfied smile.

——-

There’s a worried expression that curls into a frown on the pure Blueberry’s face.  
“WHERE’S R̴̡̢̀͝E̷̕͞D͢͞?” The words are distorted, Edge vaguely remembers who the Berry was talking about, but he remembers his brother’s partner answer.  
“He’s got a really bad flu.” That’s what the Sans has said last time the lot of them had organised something of a get together. He knew his brother didn’t often get sick, as well as that, there was no snow to send him into a cold.  
Due to his brother’s need to not work or self pity, Edge assumed the idiot forgot to drink water or something menial.  
”he doesn’t come that often, do ya think he just wants to avoid us?” The weed bag asks as another puff of smoke and a disapproving glare from the Berry’s face appear.  
“I wouldn’t put it against him.” Sans let’s put a sigh that showed his discontent with the situation as everyone deflates as they eat their cold 5 minute noodles.  
His brother was avoiding everyone as always. Making everyone feel hurt and forgotten.  
Edge was so wrong wasn’t he?

——-

There’s a strange letter in his mailbox today. Well, he got a letter for once. Perhaps it is strange because he rarely gets any letters. It’s edges are damp with presumably warm water and it’s shield shut by a cat sticker.  
The handwriting is shaky as it scribbles out the name ‘Papyrus’. The letter itself was a graying colour, almost imitating the light palette of dust. Taking it inside, Edge laid it on the short coffee table, unwrapping it with utmost care. His lengthy fingers tearing apart the enclosed note inside.  
The note was folded in three ways, the handwriting was a shaky as the envelope, he could barely make out the words but it was somewhat readable.  
‘Papyrus.  
I’m sorry that this had to happen. I’m sorry that I’m such a disappointment. You shouldn’t have been there for me. I know you won’t miss me when I die but I just wanted to let you know that you don’t have to bother yourself with me.  
Your Brother’  
It was probably some prank to piss him off. His brother couldn't be dead. R̴̡̢̀͝E̷̕͞D͢͞ couldn’t be dead. He didn’t deserve to die after all. The brother he loved, cherished and adored had pushed through life with a weakening arm. The one who had told him there were no monsters in the world even though he had been one himself. A wave of agony paralyses his soul as laced dread drips from it at a slow pace.  
There’s a tinge of gritty dust edged on to the page corner.  
He was always wrong. Wasn’t he?

——-  
Edge didn’t do anything, he didn’t want to do anything. He held R̴̡̢̀͝E̷̕͞D͢͞’S knife. It was a small thing, sharp edged that could easily cut through skin, and perhaps pierce bone.  
He stared at it blankly, no emotion came to mind when he idly turned it. Sadness. Anger. Nothing but the pounding in his head accompanied him in the hilarious musical that was his fucked up life.  
Sans didn’t leave his house much after the incident, no one talked about or even spoke about R̴̡̢̀͝E̷̕͞D͢͞. That was before Edge had forgotten what is brother’s name was. What his interests were, what he loved and looked for in life. Before he lost his morals.  
That was before he found a camera in the forgotten home of his brother.  
Before he forgot what home was.


	3. You Did Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s something wrong with you. You're as horrible as him.

“WHY?”  
Edge stared at Sans with utmost hatred. His eyes laced with his overwhelming outrage. Chairs and tables had been tipped and chipped to the bone. His fists has shaped the the oak. Edge stared at Sans with horror.   
How dare he.  
“I didn’t- I wouldn’t.”  
“SHUT UP.” Edge didn’t need to hear his meaningless apologies. No matter what Edge did now, NOTHING would bring his brother back from death.  
No magic on earth could wipe his memories, no human would be able to heal the crack that split his soul.   
It was funny. It was so simple to get rid of someone you despised. Yet no matter how much you loved someone you couldn’t bring them back from the dead.  
No matter how much Edge screamed, no matter how much he howled and wailed in agony, he wouldn’t- couldn’t bring back the only one he had adored.  
Edge let out an irritated laugh, soft with an underlying malice. The shadows stretched along the walls as time continues slowly.   
Silence reigned.  
Sans had the decency to not stare Edge in the eyes, had the need to feel disgraced. His eyes with cloudy with mist, feeling as if he was wandering into nothingness. His head was filled with only white noise as he reached for the Sans’ collar.  
“HOW COULD YOU.”  
Something fixes in place within Sans. A realisation perhaps?  
“You killed your own brother.” Sans’ tone shifts from apologetic to taunting. He points his thin phalange at Papyrus.  
“Even if I had done this, you did nothing to solve it.” Sans had nothing to lose anyway, Edge could kill him and he’d still be disgusted with himself. He had already began to dust anyway.   
Red and him were always so in sync weren’t they?  
Sans had kept Red away from everyone. Red believed that everyone had hated him. Every work warped into torment rather than a comfort.   
“I told him no one wanted him.”  
“THAT’S HOW YOU STOLE HIM FROM ME.”  
A sickening smirk twitches on the edges of his cheek bones. What Sans did to Red haunted Edge.   
To know that Sans found a sickening pleasure in breaking his brother, send his into outrage that burst in the form of his hands locking around the other’s neck bones.   
The white noise in his mind contorted forming a symphony, that screamed in comparison to the Sans’ straggled breathing.  
Sand lets out a shaky breath as it hitches.   
“You wouldn’t hurt Red like this.” There’s fear in his eyes, he knows it. But there is also defiance. The want to die, perhaps? Or maybe it’s the fact that the other has nothing to lose anyway. Being the disgusting thing that he is.  
“That’s exactly what he thought.” Edge tightens his grip around Sans’ neck, he gasps and lets out a half cough.   
A whine escapes his lips but he doesn’t fight Edge’s dominating hands. His soul pulses in a rhythm as magic flows elegantly to his finger tips.   
There a digits that begin to claw at his, they’re weak and they begin to lose their strength quickly. The haze had begun to blur everything, the only thing that is visible is his own will to continue. For his brother’s sake.   
Sans mouths one final word as dust settles atop Edge’s palms and smirks.  
“Sorry.”

——-

The sunlight shines just above the hills, peeking over the mountainous ranges with its prominent glow.   
There was a patch of grass in the former king’s throne room, filled with buttercups. Monsters had come down here to bury the dust of family members.   
Papyrus was different. He tore up a patch of buttercups to replace them with poppies. Red was his brother’s favourite colour, it was only appropriate for his brother’s grave to be adorned with bright poppies at least. Using a rock as a gravestone, he had engraved the words ‘Brother’ in bold letters.  
Ever since that day, he had visited his brother’s grave as a reminder that he had done nothing. That was up until he found the camera hidden in plain view of the couple’s abandoned bedroom.

This visit is far different from the usual. This time he had brought a gun. His scarf blowing along with the furious artificial winds that blew through the pierced windows, he had no care for such things.  
He found it strange that the poppies had been coloured with vibrant tears that were coloured like roses. It was funny how he did nothing, yet he cried. Tears had flowed down his cheeks in streams of anguish. The pang of misery finally settling into his already broken soul.   
He knew there was something wrong.   
There was nothing more grotesque then the feeling of sins crawling along your spine. The sin he had done weeks ago had taken a toll on his physical form. Refusing to eat and sleep, he was so exhausted.   
Word had spread that the guard had disbanded, he could see why, he may have been the only one keeping the idiots in order.   
There was a rumour that the stragglers that had stayed behind were hunting him down after the report of dust in the home. He decided not to head back after he had headed the news of his execution in the capital of the Underground.  
Deciding, rather than the usually staring at the ceiling until his eyes ached, he had chosen to travel down the mountain once more. The poppies were like roses to papyrus. They were beautiful yet pricked his memories with guilt if he reminisced and stared for too long.

He uttered words under his breath. It didn’t mean much but he did it anyway to calm his troubled soul.  
“You have been avenged, brother.’   
He raises the gun to his forehead. His reflect his morals and sparkle with a single need.  
Gazing up at the patterned ceiling of his home for one last time before committing his final murder.


	4. You Were Too Late

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apologise aren’t what fix timelines.

His soul shatters as another reset rips through the timeline; A ripple in the seams that held everything together. The ropes snapped as he held onto the broken shard of memories that had been taken from him swiftly.   
As his soul recollects, there’s a soft tune behind him. His thoughts reform into a single figure. Red. His lover. The one he had cared about most but hurt.   
He was so sorry.  
Sans reaches out his hand to touch the faceless skull that he’s so familiar with. The forgers dissipates and dissolves into the chasm of nothingness that is the loading screen. He knew had to fix it. Something sparked within him. He was such a fool to pretend that Red still loved him.   
To pretend that Red forgot what his affection felt like. 

——-

He lets out a strangled breath as he wakes. Once again in his bed of the apartment he and his brother shared.   
He was such a fool, chasing after something he knew he couldn’t get back.

He took his phone from his bedside table and dialed Red’s number. He is only met with the sound beeping. Groaning tiredly, he drags himself out of bed. Rushing out the door, fully dressed but not entirely neatly. A new determination flowed through his bones as he mounted his bicycle and peddled to where he knew Red would be. 

The only thing on his mind was Red. He would fix this, he knew he would. For once there was a genuine smile that spread across his face.  
He daydreams about the times when Red would talk to him about his problems. Sans would focus on his partner’s voice, he adored every bit of Red. 

It felt as if they were children again. Cycling to class at 7:30, when the washing machine had confused him and when love was the one thing he couldn’t get a clasp on.   
Sans loved Red so much.  
His legs ached as he got off the rickety bicycle and ran into the mall. He knew Red always loved having dates here, he lived going around the shops and just exploring. When their arms were locked around each other’s and they’d just listen to their conversation topics. A time when everything was so much simpler.

Despite his lover’s denial, Red had always loved milkshakes, much like Blue had but had always drank mustard as a cover up. Sans really was lucky wasn’t he? 

He climbs the escalators in a rush, pushing past crowds. This reminds him of the time when Red and him would run into crowds and try to find each other, it was a dumb game Red had thought of. He was sure that even without seeing each other they would find each other in the mess of people. He believed they were soulmates. Red believed it would get better.   
Sans held back his ounces of regret, there would be no use crying in public for someone who wasn’t even there.

He passed one of Red’s favourite places, a small shopz It was, filled with dresses and jackets of sorts. It wasn’t the clothes that Red Cherished so dearly, it was huge wooden floors the ceiling decorated with beautiful chandeliers. It was odd. Red and Sans would pretend to shop and when the old lady who had owned the place left to go out back, Red insisted that they should just dance in the open space. It was completely silent save for Red’s small delighted giggles and the chatter coming from outside.

Red always was infatuated with the smaller things in life. The beauty and intricacies of a piece of glass or how the way a room fit with their colour palettes. Sans on the other hand preferred obvious beauties like a particularly pretty flower. 

As he makes his way towards the quaint milkshake cafe, Sans spots two figures departing. One having a striking red jacket and the other having a calmer, laid back orange, their phalanx intwind as the the shorter of the two’s shoulder bounce in laughter as the taller smirks.

In the spur of the moment, Sans screams out his lover’s name.  
“RED!” His voice echos, the tone is filled with a rush of delight and want to be with his lover. Red tilts his head back, half of his hand is covered by the long sleeve. The other notices Sans before turning to stretch and murmuring to him something.  
Sans realises something that he should’ve noticed ages ago. The jacket Red had been wearing in the previous timeline was a bold black with a fur lined hoodie, Sans had gifted it to him after his tethered old one had given him little protection. The one Red was currently wearing, ironically, was a bloodshot red sweater that was far too big for him, it highlighted Red’s usual crimson rings that circled his eyes. 

“Hey, little guy.” Words that Sans has never heard Stretch say knocks him out of his thoughts, when has Stretch ever called him ‘little guy’.  
“How do you know my boyfriend?”   
Oh. Of course. That’s why the world reset. Something changed.  
He doesn’t know what think anymore.   
“O-oh sorry, heh wrong person.” Sans’ grin falters, his eyes are cloudy with tears, his arms shake as he watches the two of them walk off, not a second glance his way.  
Red wasn’t his anymore. It had been all his fault hadn’t it. 

He doesn’t know what to think anymore.


	5. Something Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stretch knows more than he lets on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for slow updates but I've been heavily procrastinating. Longer chapters are in the works at the moment, enjoy!

“YOU KNOW THAT HE HATES YOU RIGHT?”  
This question was brought up as Red talked about his day. It was a simplistic day that had no real meaning at all, he had talked to Sans a lot, this was an obscure thing that rarely happened under circumstances since Sans was always distant to all of them but Stretch had also been acting strangely around him, feeling up his arm as they howled with laughter.  
It was ‘chummy’ to say the least.

There was also that one-time but.. No one talks about that time.

“THAT SANS, HE ABSOLUTELY HATES YOUR ENTIRE BEING.” 

“Do you know something I don’t, Boss?”

“IT’S NOT THAT HARD TO TELL.”

He must admit, he had always found the other’s low voice calming to listen to, how he was so laid back, something that Red envied. 

_He’d give anything to not care._

“YOU SHOULD GO WITH THE WEEDBAG. GO FOR MONSTERS MORE ON YOUR LEVEL.” 

Red always found Stretch very odd, to say the least, he was clingy all the time and he would be lying if he said he enjoyed the attention he was given. He liked Stretch, he wasn’t a bad person and he had good intentions but it wasn’t the thing Red was kinda into.

“I don’t even like him.” He mumbles against his red sleeve, it wasn’t a sweater or jacket just a long-sleeved shirt. 

———

His brother had mentioned this conversation to Stretch and that’s how he ended up here.  
On a date with the monster, he purposely wanted to avoid.  
Of course, that’s how it worked.  
The two of them had agreed that they should just hang out at the park, talk about their day and that’s exactly what they did.

“You know, I know this is like our first date but I’ve always loved ya, bud.”  
He barely opened his mouth to speak, keeping the cigarette within his jaws, puffing out small grey clouds of cancer.  
Red said nothing, only swinging his legs slightly to the rhythm of the swings and the wind howling behind them that ruffled his shirt.  
This date was a failure but none of them had the heart to admit it.

——-

Stretch had gotten him a gift as they left the mall that he absolutely hated. He hated everything here. The towering levels, that tiny shop that made him feel claustrophobic, even the milkshake cafe, the staff were such assholes. But he went nonetheless. The gift was just a sweater with the price tag still on it. 5 dollars. Of course, the idiot wouldn’t spend too much money. 

The wool it was made with was simple patterns, changing styles around the rim, although it seemed to have a soft feel to it, Red could tell wearing it for too long would scratch at his elbows and make him itch.

He could see the proud and cocky half-lidded gaze, expecting a confirmation from his partner. Red could feel beads of sweat pooling on his brow, he scrunches his face up in obviously faked excitement. 

He immediately thanks the other with the cliche ‘you shouldn’t have.’

——-

“We can’t keep doing this.” Sans had whispered under his breath, worry lacing his every word. Red held his hand softly, squeezing it ever so often as a pathetic form of comfort.  
“I love you.”

“I know. He loves you more.”

“I don’t want him.”

“You don’t have to want him you know. Why not just break up?”  
Red shuffled closer to his double, burying his face in the crook of Sans’ neck before letting out a choked sob. 

_“I promise you, I will.”_

——-

“YOU’RE A FAILURE.”

“Boss, why should I-“

“YOU CAN’T JUST GIVE UP AND RUN AWAY WITH SANS YOU IDIOT.  
WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE COMMITTED TO SOMETHING FOR ONCE?”

Edge continued. He wouldn’t let Sans get his way again. His brother didn’t deserve it. He wouldn’t let his brother die again, even if Sans falls into a pit of his own heavy self-pity, Edge could care less.

Red let out a groan of frustration as he walks out the door, slamming it behind him, almost breaking the hinges.

——-

Stretch had known a lot since the beginning of his and Red’s relationship, He knew Red had told the Edgelord that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with him. He had seen the fake excitement in Red’s discontented eyes. He knew a lot more then he showed. He had seen Red kissing, hugging Sans.

He knew Red had never loved him.

He knew he had to change something. He had to change nothing of himself though. Everyone knew he was perfect. He was always perfect. He could have anyone else but he wanted Red. And Red rejected him. 

**What a stupid choice.**

———

 _Nonono, shit._  
Red hid in his tear stricken scarf, outer clothing discarded lying on the floor in piles. It felt grimy along his pelvis, the white liquid made him ill as it stuck of his femurs, stretching as he shifted slightly to make himself more comfortable on his spot on this floor. Purple arches took over his usually pale white bones, his blood dripping freely from his cracked skull.

_Everything ached._

He had no need to wish for death in a time of his life but at this point, he wasn’t going to be given a point of release.  
“You should’ve hidden it better.” The taller stood over Red’s shivering form, gaze piercing his soul, Red made no effort to challenge that somewhat familiar yet so distant gaze. 

He didn’t even know what he did this time. He had done what was asked of him. Hell, he would’ve done it even if he wasn't asked specifically on that day, Stretch would’ve beaten the shit out of him if he didn’t anyway. He guessed Stretch had found his pair of scissors he had hidden under a creaking floorboard. Maybe Stretch was right. 

**The blood was leaking through the bandages on his wrists after all.**

\-----

They had decided to go to the mall again, Red with the bright red sweater and Stretch with his shit-eating grin. Red had guessed that this would be more pleasant than the rest of his days living with this maniac, especially since he wasn’t forced to wear a ridiculous maid dress that showed more than he wanted. 

_He missed Sans._

He missed Sans so much but with being trapped in his room and in the house so often he had restraints he was to follow if he wanted to escape alive.  
No calling, no talking to anyone but Stretch, clean everything, don’t harm yourself etc. Now most of these rules may have been harmless for the most part but, of course, Stretch had only wanted his toy to look only at him, didn’t want his doll to bleed from his wrists as dolls don’t bleed, do they? 

He hides his hands within the sweater, he doesn’t want Stretch to realize he’s relapsed again, so he tries to look smaller, more adorable, to fit with his ‘lover’s’, if you can even call him that, needs. Red was a coward if he were being completely honest. He wasn’t like his brother, wouldn’t scowl or even laugh at the face of danger. He’d just conform to dodge.  
A pathetic coward.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hears a shout from behind him, a moment of agonizing pain entwining with each straggled word. There was an inner need in that voice, a need or desire perhaps? Even so, it sounded, at its core, delighted.

Red turns only to meet eyes with the only one who’s his ever loved or even remembers loving. His sneakers are pointed towards him as if Sans was waiting to begin sprinting towards Red. His chest rises and falls mellowly, suggesting he’d been running around the area.  
_Had… Had Sans been searching for him?_

Stretch followed the other’s sight leading to the monster he hated. Who could blame him though? Stretch didn’t budge though, he was still going to play oblivious to their affair, he could punish Red later and relish in the soirée of moans that was only played for him. 

He feels a sudden tug at his hoodie sleeve as Red tugs him down to his height. Something missing from those eyelights that Stretch had enjoyed taking.  
“I.. I don’t even talk to him. I don’t even know em.” Red whispers, his low raspy voice rumbling in his chest.  
_What a lie._

Stretch turns to Sans, he asks of his relations with Red, looking as innocent and dumbfounded as he could, this could be difficult to wriggle his way out of.  
Sans’ expression turns confusion and misery twisting on his features, a realisation hitting him immediately in the face.  
Stretch lets out a quiet hum of approval as Sans goes to correct himself.  
Good, in line like everyone else should be.  
Stretch sees his little pet’s tears build slightly and his eyelights shivering with a loss so big as a lover.

Stretch never had a care for his pet’s suffering so why bother?

After all,

**It deserved all of the pain.**


	6. Nothing Mattered Anymore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are You Alright, Mr Skeleton?"  
> "I haven't been alright in ages." Comes his reply to the figure in the striped sweater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, procrastination.  
> Took some inspiration from  
> Kidnapped by SansIsAPrettyGirl  
> In Good Company by Nyarm  
> Send Them Love ^

Waterfall had always been his safe haven. The whistling of water as if flowed by, the quiet tones of the piano in the background by the mysterious piano player.  
No one knew who it was, some recalled going to see the piano player only to have them disappear into thin air.  
He dreamed of the notes lifting and falling in notes, the dynamics changing in volume as the song went off, slowing as an unforsaken dread creeps into the tune before returning to an uplifting melody.

He could feel the cool water drifting between his fingers, he never understood why the water would glow this iridescent blue. It really brightens up his life ever so slightly. 

He turns to see the few things he’s always wanted to have by his side and only them. 

His brother…  
Sans.

Oh god, _Sans_

Sans was and always will be his entire life, his entire being, the reason he was alive and yet something inside him says otherwise.  
As if the same haunting agony slithers up his spine yet he says nothing as he approaches his brother and Sans, their backs turned to him.

He couldn’t ask for more.  
...

It wouldn’t be long before Stretch would return home from the cop station. Red put one leg at a time onto the carpet, off the sofa he was sitting on, ruined by dirt and grime. His eyes traced the kitchen counter, there were vegetables covering every inch of it yet he reaches for the small bottle of wine. 

Stretch was going to find out.

Who gives a shit anymore?

He downed the entire bottle in seconds, wiping the excess from his chin with the sleeve of the maid dress. His hand slips out of line and the bottle drops from his hand. He doesn’t flinch at the loud crashing, or at how tiny pieces of curved glass scratch at his foot.  
Eyes filled with bleach and his arms have gone slack in their places, he stares into the wall, barely showing his reflection. Dark, bloodied circles hang around his eye sockets. 

He distracts himself again, thinking of the dream he had, it was a strange dream, was it not?  
_Why was nothing changing?_

He sets the stove a high temperature before shoving the vegetables into the pot. He knew that Stretch liked vegetable soup, perhaps if he made vegetable soup he would be ignored once the latter returned. 

The rusty chains around his ankles clicked together occasionally, he hated the sound. Besides from the sound of his own talking, tapping or pacing, the only sound he had to listen to were the sounds of the clinking chains, it was completely maddening.  
The chains were lengthy, of course, very for that matter. They were attached to a heavy iron ball that stayed mainly in the middle of the room.

He cringes at the thought of carrying it. He recalls one of his punishments for being stupid, to carry the ball. It broke both of his arms that day. He couldn’t go to his room unless escorted by Stretch who would carry the ball.  
In all honesty, he should be thankful he was even allowed to go to his room. 

He doesn’t notice the pain of the shattered glass etching it’s way into his foot, carving small patterns along the charred bone. Tiny droplets of marrow leak but don’t cause too much harm in all honesty. 

He thought about how much he would’ve loved it to lie in still waters. To feel the ripple of the water as his breathing slows to a crawl. It would almost be as if he would’ve died.  
He chuckles at the thought of someone coming up to him.  
_’Are you alright, Mr skeleton?’_  
_’I haven’t been alright in ages._ Comes his reply to the figure in the striped sweater.

Tears stream from his eyes, he misses all of them, so many of them lost within his memories yet he can’t recall a single one of them. He reminisces about the lost time when he would joke outside the ruins with the queen. The time when he and Undyne would wrestle outside of her post as children. The time when he and the king would mourn the loss of their beloveds besides a cup of cold tea. 

Oh, how he missed those days and how he wanted those days to return in the form of the brightest light imaginable, just so he could pretend that where he was now didn’t exist.

If there was even the slightest bit of hope left for him here in hell.

He didn’t realise it until he could see the soup shudder as droplets fell into it.  
He was crying.  
He thought of it like a distortion in a piano’s song. Odd, accidental and it stuck out like a sore thumb, yet it could be used to further continue the piece. He sure hopes the bastard chokes on his tears and remembers how much pain he caused the latter.

How much pain he caused for Red.

Maybe one day in a dream filled with stars he would be able to escape.

The soup begins to boil, the water has turned into a pleasant translucent light orange. He then pours the liquid into a bowl, not caring for the way the pot burns his fingers to a crisp, the sting leaves a pain that lasts a while. 

Once the bowl is almost full he walks back to the living room, the floors a spotless yet not enough. Red brings out a vacuum and starts to clean up every single spot he can reach about fifty times before he’s satisfied and-

The doorknob turns.

“Red?”  
Stretch steps through the door, covered in snow and other earthly materials, a lazy grin on his face. Red would’ve thought that grin belonged to Sans. But he digresses, there's no use dawdling on the past

“How was work?” Red’s voice is soft and almost adorable, just like Stretch wanted him to be, yet he feels and speaks no emotion.

Stretch takes off his uniform, only to wear his singlet and a pair of boxer shorts.

“T'was alright”  
He places his pile of laundry in the corner of the living room, obviously so that Red would have to do them the next day. His eyes perked up at the bookshelf at the other end of the room. Note that stretch was far taller than Red, he was able to look above the shelf easily.

“You missed a spot.”  
“I couldn’t reach-”  
“You could’ve just _asked_ for a stool, you dumb whore.” Stretch’s grin doesn’t move, the edges twitch yet an unsettling anger rests on his eyelights.  
“M’ sorry” Red cringes as he slurs his words, 

Stretch hated when people stuttered or slurred.  
“Mmmmm, ss-ss-sorry, oh get a grip on yourself.” Stretch cackles in response, his voice high in pitch, mocking and ridiculing. It was blatant that the shorter was the inferior of the household.  
Stretch sits down at the kitchen table with the soup still warm-ish while Red looks on from the sidelines. His face twists from a mixture of pain to disgust to anger as he sits and watches.

Stretch wasn’t usually the slow eater or the talkative type, choosing more to be hushed when eating so it was strange when Stretch spoke up from his meal.  
“Have you paid the electricity bills yet?”  
“Yes.”  
“Laundry?”  
“Yes”  
“Water bills?”  
“I thought you were meant to do those.”  
He gets up from his seat in an instant upon hearing this. Red shudders again, not out of fear, not out of emotions, he just hated the feeling of warmth seeping from his fingertips.

“Show me your soul.”  
“I’m Sorry I didn’t mean-”  
“Show me your soul or I’ll force it out of you.” The ankle bracelet blocked his magic how was he supposed to summon his soul without magic? 

He lets out a whimper in defeat as he goes limp in the arms of his captor. Stretch wraps his hands around Red’s neck, it would be so easy to just _snap_.  
He squeezes as Red struggles, his arms flailing to catch the taller’s hands, to tear them from his throat.  
Stretch uses his other hand to grab Red’s soul from his ribcage. His eyes widen.

There’s a tiny crack running along the centre of the grey inverted heart.

“Why must you be so stupid? You don’t even take care of yourself, you’re so pathetic.” Stretch howls, anger and hatred flowing through his gruff voice. A light, green as an emerald shines just above the soul, there’s no vibrant red that emanates from it as it used to. 

The crack doesn't fade and instead grows slightly larger, which causes Stretch to gasp in surprise, for once, he was fearful. He feared to lose the colours of the world, he feared to lose that bright blue that his brother had always adored. He didn’t want to lose what he had taken so long to gain.

Red stays idle, his hollow eyes fade from reality to his dreams, Waterfall was all so close, he was so close to seeing Sans again, it would’ve been so great to just close his eyes and sleep. 

“Would it make you happy to see Sans again, filthy? Is that what you want?” Red’s eye lights flicker ever so slightly at the thought, Sans was his only sunshine, Stretch took that one thing he loved and hid it from him didn’t he?  
Stretch gets up from his spot on the floor next to Red and goes to pick up the unfinished, cold soup, he takes a spoonful and shoves it down Red’s gutter. Red chokes and sputters, so caught off guard, the liquid was cold and disgusting opposed to the usual warm mustard he was used to. He turns his head and he pukes onto the floor, the substance has a gritty texture, probably from the old tacos he had this morning. It’s mixed with the light colour of blood and other bodily fluids as he chokes and spasms on his own vomit. Gut-wrenching sobs that tore through his chest, body wracked with an onslaught of tears.  
His throat lurched again, coughing up another spurt of sick.  
“Oh my gOd! You disgusting hound! Lick it up. Lick it up you sick fuck!” Stretch grabs Red’s head and pushes him toward the puddle. It stains his face in a mixture of red, mixed with his own tears and snot. He sticks out his tongue and flinches when he tastes the putrid bitterness of his own puke. Stretch’s fist meets Red skull, the blinding pain sends his head spinning before crashing back down to the situation he’s in only to cry more.  
“I said clean it!” The anger in Stretch’s voice is enough to force Red to succumb, the hand around his throat didn’t help much either. He gasps for air, the acidic mixture flowing slowly into his mouth.  
He fades in and out of consciousness before the hand lets go of his throat. He feels another wave of puke go down his throat. Despite the stain and the moist texture, the carpet was clean of the puddle.  
He’ll excuse himself this time, he never wanted to close his eyes more.

_Waterfall was just in an arms reach._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Talk To Me On  
> Tumblr


End file.
